


Last-Minute Gifts

by violaceum_vitellina_viridis



Series: Happy Holidays [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Prompt, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaceum_vitellina_viridis/pseuds/violaceum_vitellina_viridis
Summary: “Would you – if you can find the time, on Christmas, would you – maybecomemeetmydaughter?”“You have a daughter?!”
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Happy Holidays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582606
Comments: 48
Kudos: 556





	Last-Minute Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> merry friggin christmas, i have no idea what this is
> 
> i found this prompt, "character A's sibling/child wants to meet their favorite celebrity/writer/person for christmas. character B is said 'christmas present',' and sat down and pounded out 4,500+ words of nonsense and fluff and anxious peter.

Deadpool asks the question, apropos of _absolutely_ nothing, in the middle of a fight.

Peter’s crouched behind him to avoid gunfire while he webs up a hole in his suit. Deadpool is sort of firing randomly into the distance, but all there is in the distance is killer robots, so Peter’s not worried. Thank God for Captain America’s ability to convince New Yorkers to evacuate.

“Hey, Spidey,” Deadpool starts, which is totally normal, despite the grunts breaking up the words as he gets hit, “do you like kids?”

That part is definitely not normal. Peter’s brain sort of blue screens for a moment, because the situation is dangerous and he’s supposed to be focused on that, but someone – fucking _Deadpool_ – just asked him if he likes kids. For a solid thirty seconds, he doesn’t know the answer. Does he like kids? Has he ever met a kid in his life? He’s stuck.

Finally, after another few precious seconds, his thoughts come back online. “Depends why you’re asking,” he says ambiguously, and finishes webbing up his suit. “Also, can we have this conversation another time? Say, when the killer robots are no longer, y’know, killing?” As if to underscore his point, there’s an explosion and the general fuzz of panic over their comms from several Avengers.

Deadpool swears a blue streak. “Yeah, good point, c’mon.”

They dive back into the fray almost as one, and Peter promptly forgets Deadpool even asked about kids.

* * *

Of course, true to form, Deadpool reminds him almost as soon as the last robot has been tossed into transport to…wherever Tony is taking them. Peter definitely wasn’t paying that much attention to the details. His side hurts where several bullets grazed him when he swung too low, his hands hurt where he caught himself on the asphalt, his core hurts from swinging around in circles. He just hurts.

“Spidey!” Deadpool shouts, practically sprinting toward him. Peter groans. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to Deadpool – Jesus, DP is probably Peter’s best friend – but because Deadpool is prone to picking him up and –

“Oh fuck,” Peter gasps when the move Deadpool uses to swing him up and into his leather-clad arms knocks the wind out of him. “Goddamn, ’Pool.”

“Shit, you okay?” He at least has the good sense not to drop Peter, instead just adjusting so he’s holding him a little more securely.

“Yeah,” Peter pants out. “Or, I will be. Fuck, everything hurts.”

“Do I need to take you to Stark Tower?”

Peter shakes his head before letting his neck relax. His head thunks back and against Deadpool’s shoulder. “No. I just need a good nap.”

“Oh, well,” Deadpool says, and the usual mania is back in his voice. “I’ll just take you home then.”

“Please and thank you,” Peter mutters, muffled by the way his face is half-smashed against Deadpool’s neck.

“Of course,” Deadpool says, and starts fiddling with his belt. Peter’s not thrilled about the teleporter, but he’s also not thrilled about the idea of jumping across rooftops, so he’ll pick his battles. “By the way, back to what I asked earlier.”

“Huh?”

“Do you like kids?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond, a little more clearly this time, but Deadpool chooses then to hit his teleporter and Peter’s too busy holding back his lunch to answer for several minutes.

Once he’s sure he’s not going to see his latest order of street truck tacos all over again, he shrugs. “Kind of,” he answers.

Deadpool hums, a sign he’s waiting for Peter to continue, and starts his way down to the fire escape.

“Kids are fine,” Peter continues after a moment, “but I suck at taking care of them. And I don’t really want to, to be honest.”

Deadpool laughs. “Fair enough.”

They’re silent for another few minutes until they get to Peter’s window. Unfortunately for Peter, Deadpool has to put him down so they can both get through. He grumbles and groans but doesn’t say anything, instead just shoving himself through the window with as little bending as he can and immediately stumbling to his bed. He faceplants down, nearly suffocating in his own pillows.

Deadpool laughs again. “Got any food, Spidey?”

Peter groans. “Do I ever?”

“Good point. Take your nap, I’ll order out.”

“You’re great,” Peter announces, holding up a thumbs up. He pulls his mask high enough that it clears his nose and then drops back into the pillows, dozing before Deadpool is even out of his bedroom.

* * *

Peter wakes up to the smell of pizza. His stomach grumbles as if on cue and he sits up. His suit is twisted around him and damp with sweat and he frowns. His bedroom door is closed – DP is always really good with that, the whole secret identity thing, even though Peter knows that the merc could know everything about him in under ten minutes if he tried.

He stands and pulls off his suit and mask, tossing them into the hamper. He grabs a t-shirt and sweats and a clean mask. He leaves the mask bunched on his nose – nothing Deadpool hasn’t already seen – and opens his bedroom door to find a veritable mountain of pizza on his kitchen counter.

Deadpool is on the couch with a box of pizza in his lap, watching something that sounds like Golden Girls reruns on his phone. Peter doesn’t bother greeting him, instead just scarfing down three pieces of pizza almost without breathing. When he swallows the last of them, Deadpool is turned around on the couch watching him.

His mask is pushed up and he’s grinning. Peter flips him off and grabs one of the pizza boxes, flopping down on the couch next to him. “Thanks,” he says after a minute.

“Don’t mention it,” Deadpool says, waving a piece of pizza in the air.

They eat in silence – or, mostly silence, as Deadpool’s phone is still playing Golden Girls – for a long few moments. Finally, when he’s finished his entire pizza, Deadpool speaks.

“So, I was asking about kids for a reason,” he says. Peter blinks, then nods when the subject clicks in his head.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Deadpool suddenly looks…almost nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap and his face turned away from Peter. “I was, uh, gonna ask….” He trails off, and Peter waits for a minute, but nothing more comes.

“What?” he prompts.

“Christmas is coming up,” Deadpool sort of blurts. Peter blinks again.

“…it is,” he says. “In like – wow, fuck, a week. Yeah.”

“So I wanted to ask, uh…. I have…. I’m sure you have plans, but I wanted to – uh….”

Peter muffles a laugh into a bite of pizza. It’s so weird to see Deadpool stumbling over words. He’s prone to rambling, but not stammering.

“Spit it out,” Peter finally says after he swallows his latest bite.

“Would you – if you can find the time, on Christmas, would you – maybecomemeetmydaughter?”

The last part is so quick and jumbled Peter has to spend a solid two minutes piecing it together, but when he finally gets it –

“You have a _daughter_?!” he half-shouts it, so shocked he knocks the pizza box out of his lap and doesn’t even grab for it. He turns to face Deadpool more fully on the couch.

He doesn’t miss the way Deadpool flinches a little. “Uh, yeah,” he says. Hesitant. Peter swallows the three hundred questions bouncing around his head. “Her name is Ellie.”

“Ellie,” Peter repeats. It’s…cute. He wonders if Deadpool named her, or if her mother did. He wonders, too, who her mother is. “You…want me to meet her?”

Deadpool perks up a little. “Yeah! She’s – you’re her favorite superhero.”

“You’re not?”

Deadpool laughs, at least, and Peter hopes his mask is still enough to cover his blush. He hadn’t meant to ask that so tactlessly. “I’m not a hero,” Deadpool says, and waves away Peter’s beginning protest. “I’m not. And she knows that.”

“Oh,” Peter says, and there’s a small, awkward pause before Deadpool keeps talking.

“She loves you,” he says, animated again. “And she knows we work together all the time, and about a month ago she told me all she wanted was to meet you, and I thought – I thought, maybe, I could make that happen.”

Peter’s a little taken aback – he knows, of course, that he has fans. One of his biggest fans is, in fact, sitting right in front of him right now. But it’s still odd for him, to hear that someone loves him. That someone idolizes him.

“Of course, if you have plans, I understand,” Deadpool says after a moment of silence from Peter, and Peter jolts.

“What? No, I – well, yes, I do have plans, with family, but – I can absolutely meet Ellie!” he rambles out. “I’d love to meet her.”

Peter can’t see most of DP’s face, but he can still see the way the other man practically lights up. He grins, the absolute joy coming off of his friend infectious.

He’ll have to call his aunt and rearrange their plans a little, but he’s sure she won’t mind.

* * *

Deadpool gives Peter an address and the names of Ellie’s guardians – Peter bites his lip bloody so he doesn’t ask questions about that – and Peter talks to May.

May’s besides herself with glee. Peter has to talk her down from inviting Deadpool and Ellie to _their_ Christmas plans more than once.

“Oh, but Peter, it would be so fun!”

Peter laughs and sighs in one. “I know, Aunt May,” he says, phone lodged between his ear and shoulder as he finishes some last-minute wrapping. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be fun to have them over.”

“Then why can’t we invite them?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “We went over this,” he says, switching his phone to the other ear. “Secret identity, remember?”

May scoffs and tuts. “Yes, yes, I know.”

“I don’t want to wear a mask at dinner,” Peter continues. “And I can’t just take my mask off around Deadpool.”

May just huffs again. “I don’t see why not,” she says, and Peter knows she’s talking about unmasking. “He’s introducing you to his _daughter._ ”

Peter chews his lip. He’d been thinking about that, actually, and damn May for pinning it immediately. She’s always been too good at that. “I know,” he says, but doesn’t agree or disagree. “Look, I gotta go, I have some last-minute things I have to do. I love you, though, and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

May sighs. “I love you, Peter,” she says. “Be safe.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I will. You too.”

May makes a kissy noise and hangs up. Peter sets his phone down and looks over his counter, where several newly-wrapped gifts sit. Most of them are for May. There’s one each for MJ and Ned. And then one final one, smaller than the rest, with _Ellie_ written on it in his best handwriting.

He stares at it for a long moment, then shakes his head. He grabs the gifts for MJ and Ned and heads out. He needs to get these to them tonight, so he has time to spend with Ellie and Deadpool, then Aunt May tomorrow.

He takes the subway because it’s easier – even though it’s hard as hell, with the Christmas rush – and spends the whole ride on his phone, staring at the address and names Deadpool gave him. He’d gone the day after he’d gotten the info to check out the house. It was a single-story in a quiet neighborhood, and he’d seen Mr. Preston leaving for work.

It looked nice. Peter still wondered who Ellie’s mother was, and why she wasn’t living with her. He could guess why the girl wasn’t living with Deadpool, but the rest of the story wasn’t as obvious.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts, he nearly misses his stop. He squeezes through the doors at the last minute and makes himself small to sneak through the crowds, until he finally gets to MJ’s apartment. He knows Ned will be there tonight. Harry, too, but he and Peter are no longer on speaking terms, and that’s why Peter came so early. No reason to risk a meeting that doesn’t need to happen.

MJ ignores his offering of presents and practically tackles him in the hallway. He catches her easily, but stumbles back. Someone down the hall wolf-whistles and he flushes red.

“MJ, c’mon,” he says, trying to set her down so he can pick up the gifts and hand them over. She shakes her head and clings tighter.

“No,” she says. “I don’t care what you got me, I want a hug.”

Peter rolls his eyes but acquiesces, squeezing his arms around her waist. There’s another wolf-whistler before MJ finally deems the hug acceptable and hops down. Peter picks up the presents from the ground and thrusts them out at her. She rolls her eyes but takes them.

“I know you can’t be here tonight, because of Harry,” she says. “But what about tomorrow?”

Peter shrugs. “I’ve got plans.”

“All day?”

He laughs. “Yes, all day. I’m – uh, making an appearance, and then I have dinner with May.”

“Making an – oh!” MJ’s eyes light with understanding. “For what?”

“Who,” Peter corrects, rubbing the back of his neck. “A…colleague…has a kid,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “It’s their Christmas present.”

“The colleague or the kid?” MJ asks, eyes twinkling. Peter flushes again.

“Yes?” It came out as a question. “Mostly the kid’s.” 

“Mhm,” MJ nods. “Sure.”

“You don’t even know who it is!” Peter protests, not really sure why MJ’s usual nonsense is getting under his skin.

MJ rolls her eyes. “I don’t need to know,” she says. “I can guess.”

“What? No you can’t.” Peter knew he was just digging a deeper hole, but this was – May seeing it was one thing, but MJ?

MJ rolls her eyes again. “C’mon,” she says, grabbing his elbow and dragging him into the apartment. “Quick, Ned should be here soon.”

Peter hurries after her. If she’s going to make this a Talk, that meant she wasn’t going to be mincing words. Ned doesn’t know about Spiderman. Or, well, he doesn’t know that Peter is Spiderman. MJ only knows because she’s exceedingly good at putting puzzles and patterns together, plus that unfortunate incident in which Peter had had to pull her out of a burning building _as_ Spiderman.

“Alright, I can start listing my guesses or you can spill,” she says once the door is closed and they’re deep enough into the apartment they won’t be overheard. She still keeps her voice down, thank God.

Peter sighs and rubs his neck again. “Deadpool.”

MJ nods. “That was my first guess.”

“Of course it was,” Peter mutters miserably. MJ slaps his arm.

“You haven’t unmasked around the merc, have you?”

Peter nearly gives himself whiplash looking from his feet to MJ’s face. She’s smirking.

“What the fuck,” he mutters. “No, I haven’t, and how the fuck – y’know what. Never mind. I haven’t.”

MJ nods. “You should,” she says. “He’s introducing you to his kid. That’s damn near the same level as you introducing him to Aunt May.”

Peter groans. “You’re absolutely sure you never talk to Aunt May?”

MJ laughs. “Not since that last Easter dinner I was invited to,” she says. “She said the same thing, didn’t she?”

“Almost,” Peter says, but doesn’t elaborate. “Goddamnit.”

MJ pats his head. “Listen to your Aunt, Peter,” she said. “After all, you need to get Deadpool a Christmas present, right?”

Peter groaned. “God _damnit_.”

* * *

Peter arrives at the Preston’s twenty minutes early because he was too anxious to keep pacing around his apartment. He paces some more on the sidewalk for ten minutes before he decides it’s good enough and forces himself up the drive to knock on the door.

Mrs. Preston answers the door. She’s smiling, and something about her puts Peter at ease immediately.

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Preston,” he says awkwardly. “Merry Christmas!”

She laughs. “You beat Wade here,” she says. “Come in, come in. Ellie will be thrilled. Terry Jr. will, too. And call me Emily.”

Peter swallows another spike of anxiety and ignores the way his brain spins around the name _Wade_ , following her inside. “Does Ellie know?” he asks after a second.

Emily shakes her head. “No,” she says, smiling wide. “As soon as Wade mentioned it, we decided we wanted to keep it a total surprise.”

Peter nods. “Good idea,” he says, for lack of anything else to say.

She nods, too. “Terry!” she calls. “We have a guest!”

A man with flour in his afro ducks out of what Peter assumes, from the smell, is the kitchen. “Oh, is Wade – _oh!_ ” He claps, and flour puffs into his face. He coughs while his wife laughs, and Peter allows himself to chuckle.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Terry says once he’s done coughing. “Ellie will be so excited. So will Wade, for that matter. Do we know when he’s getting here?”

Emily shrugs. “Sometime soon, from his phone call earlier.”

“Do we want to wait until – ” Terry gestures toward Peter, looking unsure. Emily shrugs again.

“What do you think?” Emily turns to him. “Should we wait until Wade arrives for the surprise?”

Peter blinks, a little shocked at being asked for his opinion. “Uh – um. Yeah? Yeah, I think we should,” he stammers after a second. He thinks about how Deadpool – _Wade_ – lit up like a Christmas tree when Peter said he’d come, and part of him wants to see it again. Wants to see Wade interact with his daughter, wants to see all of it.

Emily’s smile widens and she nods. “Then that’s decided. Here,” she grabs Peter’s elbow and tugs him gently in a different direction. “I’ll call Wade, and you can wait here. Terry’ll make sure the kids stay in the living room.”

She leads Peter to a little room with a bay window. Peter sits awkwardly in the chair she points too and nods in agreement. He’s not sure she even sees him.

Peter fidgets with his webshooters and gloves while he waits, watching out the window as the sky begins to darken. Christmas lights are starting to come on, too. It even snowed earlier, so everything looks twice as magical. He smiles to himself at the thought. Aunt May will be thrilled about the snow.

Emily interrupts his thoughts by bustling back into the room. She’s holding her phone out and Peter tentatively takes it. When he puts it to his ear, he can hear a lot of white noise.

“Hello?” he asks.

“Spidey!” Deadpool’s voice booms in his ear. He pulls the phone a little away from his head.

“Hey,” he says dumbly. Deadpool laughs.

“I’m glad you made it,” he says. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, promise. Had to stop and change.”

“You’re not wearing your suit?” Peter asks automatically, stifling the groan that follows when he processes what he’s said.

Deadpool laughs. “No,” he said. “It’s plenty red and jolly, but it’s not exactly clean, if you catch my drift.”

Peter winced. He did catch it. “Ah,” he says. “Alright. I’ll see you in a few, then, ’Pool.”

Another laugh. “Yes you will. And you can call me Wade, Spidey.” The line disconnects.

Emily giggles a little when Peter hands her phone back. Peter’s face burns. Not for the first time, he really appreciates the mask. Emily takes her phone and leaves again without a word, which only makes him blush harder. He huffs and drags a hand over his face.

True to his word, Deadpool – Wade, Peter corrects in his head harshly, _Wade_ – arrives a few minutes after they spoke on the phone. He’s the one who comes back into the room to grab Peter.

Peter, of course, embarrasses himself immediately by gasping. Out loud.

He knew Wade wouldn’t be wearing his suit, obviously, he’d asked. But for some reason, he hadn’t put together that that might mean Wade wasn’t wearing a mask.

“Yeah, sorry,” Wade says, gesturing to his face. “I forgot – the Prestons and Ellie are pretty used to it.”

Peter resists the urge to slap himself in the face and shakes his head. “No, no, it’s – I was just…shocked.”

Wade’s smiling, but he looks a little sad. “Yeah, I got that.”

“No!” Peter nearly shouts it, frustrated that he’s not getting his point across. “I’m not – I don’t – I wasn’t expecting to see your face at all, Dea – Wade. I don’t – the scars don’t bother me.”

“Oh.” Wade’s eyes are wide, and the sad look is gone, replaced by something that looks a little uncomfortably close to awe.

“Yeah,” Peter says, mostly to fill the silence.

They stand there for a long moment, until finally Terry appears at Wade’s shoulder.

“Are you two coming?” he asks, eyes twinkling. Peter shakes himself and nods, ducking around Wade’s wide arms.

“Coming,” he says. “Lead the way.”

Terry snorts but starts leading him toward what he assumes is the living room. He can tell Wade follows by the sound of footsteps on the carpet.

They all stop at the entrance to the living room. Wade steps in front of Peter, blocking him from view entirely – and Peter keeps getting stuck on how big Wade is, despite this being the worst timing. Wade claps, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.

“Ellie!” he shouts, and Peter can’t see anything, but he can hear the way Ellie shrieks in excitement and something thuds to the floor. He steps back just in time for Wade to do the same, apparently catching his daughter in his arms.

“Wade!” she says, still mostly in a shriek. Wade laughs.

“I got you something,” he says. Peter still can’t even see the girl – Wade’s holding her so she can’t see over his shoulders, probably.

Ellie makes an excited noise. “What is it?” she asks.

Peter looks down, and can see when her feet touch the ground, just as Wade steps out of the way to reveal him.

Ellie’s eye go so wide Peter’s slightly worried she might hurt something. He waves awkwardly.

“Hi, Ellie,” he says.

“No way!” Ellie shouts, and barrels toward Peter. He catches her, barely, stumbling back and instinctively shooting out a web to balance himself on the wall. Elle shrieks again. “It’s really you!”

“It’s really me,” Peter chuckles. Her excitement is infectious, especially up close like this where he can see how wide she’s smiling. She actually looks a lot like the Prestons, but Peter can see her resemblance to Wade. It’s subtle, but it’s there. “Merry Christmas, Ellie.”

Ellie squeals and wraps her arms tight around Peter’s neck. Peter just breaks the web he had attached to the wall and hugs her back. He catches sight of Wade as he turns back toward the living room.

Wade’s grinning just as wide as his daughter is, and he’s got tears in his eyes. Peter bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, so he doesn’t start crying, too.

After a moment, Ellie’s grip loosens, and Peter puts her back on her feet.

“Can I know your name?” she asks. She’s still all smiles, but there’s a shrewdness in her gaze that Peter recognizes immediately. He’s never _seen_ it in Wade, but he’s heard it plenty. He can’t help but grin, even though his heart is in his throat.

“Uh,” he says, hesitating. Wade’s looking at him, also still grinning, but otherwise expressionless. Of course he wouldn’t try to sway Peter in this – he’s too much of a good buy. Ellie’s still staring up at him, waiting for an answer.

“You can say no,” Emily butts in after a moment. “She’s a stubborn little thing, but she knows what boundaries are. Don’t you, Ellie?”

“Yes, Emily,” Ellie answers, tearing her gaze from Peter’s face for a moment to look at her foster mother. She’s back to staring Peter down quickly though.

Peter swallows his heartbeat and decides. “My name’s Peter,” he says, holding out a hand. Ellie’s grin widens again, and the shrewdness is replaced with that same joy from before. She shakes his hand hard.

“Hi, Peter,” she says, and Peter can’t help himself, he pulls her into another hug.

She laughs and hugs him back just as tightly.

* * *

He spends a few hours at the Prestons, talking and playing with Ellie and Terry Jr. He’s almost sad when it comes time for him to go, but he’d promised Aunt May he wouldn’t be late to their dinner. Despite that, he does take Wade aside just before he leaves.

He’s nervous as hell, nearly sweating through his gloves. He knows that Ellie noticed something before he hugged her goodbye, too, because there was just something too knowing about her smile.

“Spidey?” Wade asks, looking a little worried.

Peter chuckles, a little self-deprecating. “I wanted – to give you your Christmas gift,” he says, forcing himself to keep looking at Wade’s face. The scars are heavy, and yeah, a little off-putting, but Peter really doesn’t mind. Wade’s got fantastic bone structure, and absolutely gorgeous brown eyes, and he’s too distracted to mind the scarring.

“What do you mean?” Wade asks. He gestures back to the rest of the house, toward where Ellie and the Prestons still are. “You already went above and beyond. You came here, and you told Ellie your name, and you gave her that little robot thing – what more could you possibly do?”

Peter chuckles again. “All of those were gifts for _Ellie._ This one is just for you.”

Wade blinks. “Uh, okay, I – you didn’t have to, but….”

“I know I don’t have to,” Peter says, and takes a breath. “I want to.” Before he can hesitate any further, or before Wade can stop him, he pulls his mask up and off his face, shaking his hair out of his eyes where it always falls.

“Spidey.” Wade’s eyes are closed. Damn him, he’s just as fast as Peter. “Peter.”

“I wouldn’t have taken it off if I didn’t want you to look,” Peter says, remarkably steady. His fingers are shaking, though, and he hides it by twisting his mask in his hands.

“I don’t – ” Wade swallows audibly, eyes still closed. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Even if you don’t, I still want you to look. I’ve seen your face and I know your name and I’ve met your daughter. I want to give you the same trust.”

Wade swallows again. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Wade opens his eyes. Peter forces himself to keep still and keep his eyes trained on Wade’s face while Wade looks at him. He can feel Wade’s eyes almost like a touch and he shivers.

When their eyes meet again, Wade’s are wide and…adoring. Peter swallows.

“Merry Christmas, Wade,” Peter murmurs.

Wade opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. He squeezes his eyes shut again, but when they open, he looks just as adoring as before. “Merry Christmas, Peter.”

He leans forward, just a little, and kisses Peter’s cheek.

Just barely, over the rushing in Peter’s ears, he can hear Ellie shout, “ _Yes!_ ” from somewhere behind Wade.

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely unedited so, yeah, sorry about that. hopefully its cute enough to make up for it? idk.


End file.
